


Such a Good Boy

by Black_piano_keys



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bathing/Washing, Daddy Kink, Facial Shaving, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Porn, Praise Kink, Shower Sex, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_piano_keys/pseuds/Black_piano_keys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan has admired J.R.'s acting ability, among other things, since the beginning of their professional relationship. J.R. admires some things about him, too. And may know more about what Dylan really needs than Dylan ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silkstocking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkstocking/gifts).



Dylan knew exactly when it had happened, knew the scene and the moment it hit him hard how incredibly sexy J.R. really was. As he’d spat out the line about Kate trapping Derek’s family in the basement and burning the house down around them, Chris’ face--the anger, horror and regret there--had amazed Dylan. And he’d suddenly become aware of how close J.R.’s body was to his, how close their faces were and how warm it felt to be that close.

He’d ruined the scene the first time with a nervous laugh that surprised both of them because of the seriousness of the scene and how on-point he’d been so far that day. J.R.’s expression made him feel more awkward, because he could have sworn that J.R. knew.

J.R. had smiled broadly. “Remember a joke?”

“Sorry.” Dylan hadn’t known what else to say while J.R. waited with a raised eyebrow. They’d both kept smiling at each other, like they had a funny secret. And Dylan hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

It wasn’t like he could have told J.R. that he’d just thought if they’d been naked they might have been crossing swords. And pictured it in his head.

He could have said that to Posey. He could have said it to Hoechlin, if he’d wanted to see him blush and squint his face up in the way he did when he laughed because didn’t know what else to do. He probably could have said it to Linden, even, and Linden would have laughed. Maybe blushed. A little.

But he couldn’t say it to J.R. Because he didn’t want J.R. to laugh.

Filming had gone as normal, they’d nailed the scene with the next take, and Dylan had tried to put that out of his mind. Now, after working on this set with so many attractive people for a few years, he’d learned to take those little inappropriate thoughts and tamp them down, whether they were about J.R.’s “sword” or the brief flashes in his mind of Daniel going down on Crystal, or wondering whether Jeff had ever been with a woman.

But that didn’t mean he’d stopped thinking about those things. He just didn’t let it show.

As J.R. had portrayed Chris during the last season, a man with nothing left to live for, fighting his way back from the brink, Dylan was filled with admiration for his acting skill. And more appreciation for just how sexy the man really was.

The season had been over for a while. Dylan missed everyone, but looked forward to filming _The Scorch Trials_. He had to tone up and do some training before it started, but he wasn’t there yet. He could relax for another few days. Then it’d be all work and little play for several weeks.

When Hoechlin called him up and invited him to hang with him, Ian and J.R., he jumped at the chance. They didn’t have any award shows or cons together for a while, and the start of _Teen Wolf_ filming was too long to go without seeing these guys.

The three of them had a bar they frequented where most people left them alone, and Dylan was relieved at the lack of attention from fans. Ian got a call a few hours into their night and made his apologies. Hoechlin had been texting someone for a solid half an hour before he left, offering Dylan a ride if he needed it. But he hadn’t been drinking much. He’d spent more time talking and laughing than anything.

Dylan looked expectantly at J.R. “Nobody calling or texting you? If you want to call it a night, we can.”

“Do you?” That toothy smile reminded Dylan of the one he’d gotten a couple years before.

“Nah, I’m having a good time.” He lifted his glass and clicked it with J.R.’s.

“Then I’m all yours.”

Dylan half-smiled, unsure what the appropriate response would be. Was it his imagination, or was J.R. actually being suggestive? He scratched his neck, nervous, but not unpleasantly so.

“So, really, what’s with the scruff?”

They’d all teased Dylan about his attempt at a beard earlier in the evening. He’d explained that he just decided not to shave for a while. Ian had decided that Dylan had some Billy goat in him.

“Hate shaving.” He shrugged. “It’s not a statement or anything.”

“Hoech-inspired?”

“In part.”

J.R. reached over and scratched Dylan under his jaw. Just scratched him, like he might scratch a dog under its chin. “It’s interesting,” he said, in a tone of voice Dylan didn’t really recognize.

Dylan giggled and rubbed his knuckles over the edge of his jaw nervously as he leaned back, away from J.R.’s fingers. “Interesting? I guess that’s better than ‘horrifically mangy.””

“I think you want to look older. Am I right?” J.R. took a drink, never looked away from Dylan. And where did he get the right to have eyes that blue, anyway? “That’s why you dropped the buzzcut, and why you quit shaving. To look older.”

“Maybe. A little.”

“A lot. It’s a shame.”

“Wow.” Dylan laughed at the bold way J.R. said that. It was easier than showing hurt or offense.

“No, no, I mean, you look good now. You always look good. But the beard sort of takes the emphasis off your eyes and your lips. I hope that’s not part of the reason you grew it, because you have amazing eyes. And the shape of your lips, _well.”_ J.R. took a deep breath and shook his head with a little laugh of his own.

Dylan didn’t know what to say. He managed to close his mouth.

“You’re a handsome man, Dylan. But you also made . . . a lovely boy.”

J.R.’s gaze didn’t waver. He waited for Dylan to say or do something, but _what._ Dylan had never been complimented--hit on?--by a man that he actually found himself attracted to before. He’d often thought that if Hoechlin had given any hint that he’d be interested, he’d have to act on that. But Hoechlin slotted himself into the big brother role from the beginning and seemed unwilling to relinquish it, even though there was clearly something there.

J.R. didn’t look at him like a big brother, or a concerned uncle, or a father figure. Not now. The look was hungry.

“Hey, J.R.” Dylan flinched when Hoechlin’s hands grabbed his shoulders, and he leaned over between them. “I sat in the car for a bit and decided I probably shouldn’t drive, and she’s not answering now. Can you drop me off so I don’t have to take a cab?”

Dylan swallowed, relieved for the interruption. He tossed back the last of his drink, the liquor gone warm some time ago.

“Sure thing.” J.R. stood. “Wanna ride with?” he asked Dylan. “Keep me company?”

“Yeah, come on.” Hoechlin squeezed his shoulders. “Don’t let me cut your night short, bud.”

Dylan rode in the back, because Hoechlin was used to going places with J.R. and sitting in the front. They’d become really close friends over the last couple of years, and had an easy relationship. J.R. seemed to bring out the real Hoechlin in a way that a lot of other people didn’t, so it was fun to watch them relate.

When they dropped him off, Dylan got into the front seat.

“Back to the bar? Your place? Mine? You’re not done yet, are you?” J.R. and that damn smile.

“I don’t know. I should probably--”

“You should probably spend some more time with me.”

Dylan licked his bottom lip. _Yeah. Yeah, maybe he should._

“Your place.”

The drive was short. Dylan had been to J.R.’s house before, with the gang. Not by himself. Just walking through the door alone was arousing in its way.

“Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink.”

Dylan sat in an overstuffed, suede chair, elbows on his knees, and tried not to fidget. He took the drink J.R. handed him with a smile.

J.R. sat on the end of the couch closest to Dylan’s chair and put his drink on the glass coffee table. “So. You’re making quite the career for yourself. That’s great.”

“I don’t think I can take credit. My agent’s good, my parents give good advice. I’ve gotten lucky so far.”

“Oh, there’s some luck to it, I know. But you’re good, and you’re eager. You’re gonna go far.” He held up his glass so they could click them together. “And you have the most adorable blush when you’re embarrassed. A lot of it hidden by your beard.”

J.R. reached over and gently tugged a few hairs again. “You’ve got to shave for _Scorch_ , don’t you? Why not do it now?”

Dylan laughed. “Like, right now? Go and shave in your bathroom?”

“Sure, why not?” J.R. dropped his hand from Dylan’s scruff to his thigh. “Let me do it.”

“You, shave _me_?” Dylan blushed at J.R.’s nod and the way he squeezed Dylan’s thigh. “So, am I wrong in thinking . . . that’s, like, foreplay?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“I . . . think so.”

“Good.” J.R. took Dylan’s drink from him and put it next to his on the coffee table, then pulled him up by the hand. He stood toe to toe with Dylan, close enough to kiss. “But if you decide not, then it’s just one guy shaving another.”

He pulled Dylan by the hand to his bathroom, to the wide vanity in front of the mirror. He patted one side. It was big enough for a few people to sit, so Dylan hopped up and sat next to the sink while J.R. pulled a razor and some shaving cream out of the cabinet.

“Best to take off the shirt, keep it dry.”

Dylan peeled off his shirt, and let J.R. drape a towel over his shoulder. He filled the sink with a few inches of water and shook up the shaving cream. As he sprayed some onto his fingertips, Dylan held his hand out for the can.

“I can do that.”

“Ah, ah,” J.R. said, pulling the can away. “I’ve got it.”

J.R. gently spread the shaving foam on Dylan’s face and neck. “I think maybe you need somebody to take care of you a little. Having someone else shave you is kind of a treat. Same with having someone wash your hair, or rub your back. Cook for you, that kind of thing. Offer advice.”

“I’m taken care of,” Dylan said, not opening his mouth much as he spoke to avoid getting shaving cream in it.

“Yeah, but maybe not in the way you need most.”

Dylan felt himself bristle a little at that, but he also felt a rush of arousal zip through him. “What do you mean?”

J.R. pushed Dylan’s knees apart and leaned between his legs as he began carefully shaving Dylan, tilting his face this way and that with fingertips under his chin.

“I mean . . . I don’t think you get enough sleep. And sometimes you seem a bit . . . up. Alcohol or something else, maybe, combined with fatigue, and sometimes you seem a little off, that’s all.”

Dylan’s back straightened.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dylan. I’m not criticizing you so much as worrying about you. It’s just in the last year or so I’ve noticed . . . you don’t always take the best care of yourself. Mostly since the _Maze Runner_ success.”

“I’m 23, not tied down with obligations yet . . . I’m just having a good time.”

“And you should enjoy yourself, but you don’t want to take it too far. I know how uncomfortable you really are with the whole idea of fame, and it’s being put in your lap. I just want to make sure you’re handling it okay.”

As J.R. spoke, he quickly but carefully shaved Dylan’s face. When he tilted his head up so he could shave his neck, he said, “If you need help with something, just to talk, work out a problem, just vent, you know just about any of us in the cast are here for you. _I’m_ here, and happy to help.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dylan did know. So many of them were close like family, that if he had a problem, he knew they’d even be upset if he didn’t ask for help. He hadn’t known J.R.’s interest ran quite so deep, but even without that, he knew he could go to him at any time.

“Do you? Because I really am here for you, Dylan. I can take care of you. I’d love to, in fact. Because I think, deep down, a part of you really needs to be taken care of. You’ve got great parents, they raised a fine young man, but . . . .”

J.R. wiped Dylan’s face and neck with a cool, damp washcloth, then a handtowel. “Maybe you need a different kind of Daddy, too. Hmm? To provide a little guidance. A little . . . discipline.”

Dylan’s mind reeled. A Daddy? It should have sounded silly, but god, it didn’t, not completely. There was a strange element to it, but hearing it still made his dick jump in his pants,

Once he’d wiped the shaving cream off, J.R. leaned in and stroked his hand over Dylan’s cheeks, then his neck. “Oh, that’s nice. Cool and smooth. Soft. Will you miss it?”

His hand slid down to Dylan’s chest.

Dylan shrugged. “Not really. I grew it because nobody wanted me to. Yeah, to look a little older, kind of look less like a teenager, but mostly because all the people trying to tell me what to wear and say and put in my hair and eat didn’t like the idea.”

“You rebel,” J.R. said, laughing. His hand moved slowly over Dylan’s chest, working its way down to his stomach.

Dylan smiled, but he felt strongly about it. “You know how you’re treated sometimes. Like a thing. A commodity more than a person.”

J.R. used one of Dylan’s own lines from a con, when talking about Hoechlin’s character. “Like a piece of meat?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I decided that a beard would be one decision of mine, not theirs. So I let it go. Not sure if I made my point, but it felt good anyway.”

“Well,” J.R. said. “You looked very independent.”

Dylan knew J.R. was teasing him, but was maybe a little serious, too. J.R.’s hand stroked his side.

“You know one ‘insider,’ one I avoid now,” Dylan said, “told me to grab myself before auditioning for any leading-man type roles, where there’s a romantic interest. He said to “fluff” so my dick would look bigger in my pants, and I’d give off some . . . pheromone or something. Make me seem more attractive to the opposite sex and increase my chances of getting the role.”

J.R. laughed. “Did you try it?”

“What, jack it before auditioning? No. I have enough trouble with surprise bulges at awkward moments as it is. And considering he offered to help me do it after giving that advice, I think it was a little more about him than my career.”

“That the first time someone did something like that?”

“Nah.”

“Won’t be the last, either. You know all the ‘casting couch’ stories about people having sex with a producer or somebody to get a role, it happens. I think it’s a lot more prevalent in certain circles, but it’s there.”

Dylan sighed. “My agent told me about that stuff in the beginning, and I’ve mostly avoided it. I just wish . . . I dunno. Being dressed and styled and coached . . . and _handled_. And then the fans, all the attention. It’s nice, but there’s _so much._ I can’t go anywhere anymore and just sort of _be_.”

He closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath before opening them to see J.R. leaned in just a little closer. “It’s so overwhelming sometimes. I just wanna act, and wish all that wasn’t a part of it.”

Both J.R.’s hands stroked Dylan’s sides. “Every actor’s dilemma. It does sound like you have a lot of people trying to take care of you--that’s good. But maybe there’s something else you need.  Someone less concerned with your public appearance or your fans or your outfit. Hm? Someone just concerned about _you_ and how _you_ feel, for a change.”

Dylan knew all the people on his team were concerned about him and how he felt, but he knew that wasn’t what J.R. was saying. This was something wholly different. A shiver of excitement rippled through his stomach. “Maybe,” he whispered.

“Maybe you need a Daddy. To provide a little instruction. Offer a little discipline. Take care of unmet needs.” J.R.’s hand slid down his stomach to press on the bulge in his pants. “Look what we have here. I guess this was foreplay after all, huh?”

“Guess so,” Dylan whispered, pushing up against J.R.’s hand a little. “I’ve . . . been hard the whole time.”

“I know.” J.R. grabbed Dylan’s hips and slid him forward, his thighs against J.R.’s waist. “I think it’s time to let your Daddy take care of you. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, and as he wondered if he should say something else, J.R.’s hands slid up his back and his mouth pressed against Dylan’s. The kiss was soft and slow. J.R.’s facial hair scraped against his freshly-shaved skin, which was exciting in a way he’d never imagined.

The kiss deepened, their tongues slipping together for only a second before J.R. pulled Dylan off the vanity. He turned Dylan, though there was barely room with J.R.’s body pinning him to the counter, and wrapped his arms around him, a palm on his chest, one covering his navel.

JR pressed his cheek against Dylan’s neck and looked up to meet his eyes in the mirror. “You gonna be my boy, hmm? My good boy?”

Dylan shivered. He made a sound like the start of a laugh, then pushed his bottom back against the hard cock he felt there. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” J.R.’s eyebrows rose as he looked in the mirror, clearly expecting something more.

“Yeah . . . _Daddy_.” Oh, it felt strange but thrilling to say it. He kind of wanted to laugh, but his dick throbbed in his pants.

Lips pressed against Dylan’s neck, then hot breath tickled his ear.

“Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.” He cupped Dylan through his trousers and lightly squeezed.

Dylan moaned and tilted his hips forward against J.R.’s hand. Had he been hard this long before without some sort of relief? Usually when he was about to have sex, they messed around a little, lots of groping, then right for the main event. He’d never felt so much anticipation, at least not in recent memory.

“Look at yourself,” J.R. urged. “Pink cheeks, bedroom eyes, those lips of yours . . . .”

He kissed high on Dylan’s neck, then his cheek. “Your skin’s still cool from shaving.”

J.R. held him tighter, as if that really turned him on. Dylan tilted his head a little and watched J.R. suck on a spot beneath his ear, unable to look away from his own reflection. His chest had started to flush. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he hooked one around the back of J.R.’s neck and leaned against him a little more.

The hands on his chest and belly moved until J.R. kneaded both of Dylan’s nipples between his thumbs and fingers. The sensation shot right to Dylan’s dick. His back arched as he instinctively pushed his chest against J.R.’s hands, and his bottom pressed back.

“These,” J.R. whispered against his neck. “These are perfect. Showing through all your shirts, just begging to be sucked. Just gorgeous. That’s it, arch your back like that. What a good boy you are.”

Dylan felt his whole body go hot. _Perfect. Just gorgeous. What a good boy you are_. It wasn’t even technically dirty talk, and it turned him on like crazy, in ways that were a revelation.

“You like that, don’t you? Being called a good boy.” J.R. pinched and pulled at Dylan’s nipples in a way that made him almost desperate to touch his dick again.

“Yeah.” He watched his own Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Yeah, I do. _Daddy_.”

J.R. laughed and nuzzled Dylan’s cheek, glancing at him in the mirror. “ _Very_ good.”

Dylan was turned again, his butt and back against the vanity, so that J.R. could kiss him. He put his hands on J.R.’s waist, still feeling a little awkward and unfamiliar with the contours of another man’s body, a little too uncertain to touch boldly yet. He felt exposed, shirtless with J.R. fully-clothed.

Then J.R. unfastened Dylan’s pants and pushed, sliding them to mid-thigh, revealing Dylan’s navy briefs. His thumb rubbed over the head and a spot Dylan could feel was damp. He gasped at the intensity of the pleasure he felt from such a simple touch. He let J.R. slide his pants the rest of the way down, pushing them off with his shoes and socks. If he’d felt exposed before, he felt more vulnerable now, standing naked in front of a fully-clothed man.

Especially when J.R. took a step back, crossed his arms, and whispered, “Touch yourself.”

Dylan froze. He wasn’t even sure he could do that with J.R. looking at him like that. “You mean, just . . . jack off? I . . . I don’t--”

J.R. silenced him with a fingertip on his lips. “It feels awkward, right? A little embarrassing. But I don’t want you to be embarrassed, not when we’re together. Part of being my good boy is being obedient, and trusting me.”

He stepped forward, his stiff jeans brushing Dylan’s hard cock, and replaced his fingertip with his lips, brushing them softly side to side. ”So take your big, hard cock in your hand and stroke it for your Daddy,” he whispered.

When he moved back, Dylan took a deep breath. He kept fighting a smile because it was kind of embarrassing and strange, but he liked being called a good boy. And despite the strangeness of it, the whole Daddy thing was really doing it for him. It’s not like he hadn’t ever jacked it with another guy in the room. But this was different.

Dylan gripped himself, and after one more encouraging nod from J.R., he slowly stroked up and down. The running commentary from J.R. was like the feeling he got after a few drinks when he’d hit that mellow buzz that felt so good he wanted to keep it going all night.

“Oh, that’s it. Your cock’s so big and hard, Dylan. Really gorgeous. You’re doing just what I wanted, you’re so good, so perfect. Show me what feels best for you . . . such a good boy.”

Dylan stopped and took a few shuddering breaths. He had to, or he’d have come right then. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to come. He just didn’t want to come so fast and look like a little kid who couldn’t control himself.

J.R. laughed. “Oh, baby,”he whispered.

He stepped up to Dylan and pushed his hand away. He stroked Dylan in a way that made him grunt in surprise at how it felt at first, and then thrust into J.R.’s fist. He put his hands on J.R.’s shoulders and shouted as he came.

“That’s my good boy.”

“I tried not to . . . so fast.” Dylan took big breaths as J.R. slowly stroked him.

‘But I wanted you to.” J.R. stopped just before it became uncomfortable. “You look so gorgeous like this. I knew you would.”

The praise washed over Dylan like a warm wave. He shuddered against J.R. and accepted a deep kiss. “I got on your clothes,” he said. “Guess you’d better take yours off now?”

“Guess so. Help me.” J.R. let Dylan do most of it--sliding his shirt off his shoulders to drop onto the floor, unfastening his pants. But then he finished before Dylan had really worked up the nerve to touch as much as wanted to.

J.R.’s cock was hard and dark, a dark and neatly trimmed thatch of hair around it that narrowed to a line going to his navel. He took it in his hand and stroked it a few times while Dylan watched.

“You like Daddy’s cock?”

“I do.”

But J.R. stepped away and turned the shower on before he could touch, again.

“We’ll need another shower by the time I’m done with you,” J.R. said, “but I really want you to let me take care of you.” He took Dylan’s hand and led him to the shower, where they stood together, the spray at Dylan’s back. J.R. stepped close that they were pressed chest to chest and shampooed Dylan’s hair, them smiling at each other the whole time.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Just to be pampered a little. Daddy knows what you need.” He rinsed Dylan’s hair under the spray and kissed the curve of his neck. Then he turned Dylan so his back was pressed against J.R.’s chest, and backed them out of the spray to soap him from shoulders to upper thighs. His cock slid between Dylan’s buttocks and rubbed against his lower back as they moved.

When J.R.’s soaped hand slid down and wrapped around Dylan’s cock, it was already half-hard again. J.R. soaped him everywhere, beneath his sac, his hand sliding over and over again into the crease where Dylan’s thighs met it body. God, it was erotic.

He stepped them forward to rinse under the spray, sliding his hands everywhere, making Dylan impatient again. Then they were chest to chest once more, and a soaped hand slid down Dylan’s back, between his lower cheeks. J.R. stroked soapy fingers into his crease, rubbing firmly over his hole.

Dylan gasped at how amazing that felt. It made him a little nervous, but it felt too good for him to care. J.R. kissed him and kept stroking him there, pressing a little harder with each slow glide. Dylan followed J.R.’s lead and stepped back into the spray, and once rinsed, groaned into a hungry kiss when J.R. squeezed both buttocks, spreading them apart.

“Your _ass_ ,” he said, squeezing and slipping his fingers into Dylan’s crease again. “It’s perfect. Just right. I want you so much.”

He gave a final squeezed and stepped back, but before he could lead them out of the shower or reach for a towel, Dylan finally worked up the courage. He put his hand on the tattoo that covered J.R.’s shoulder.

“I always think you’re going to be able to feel them. Can’t get over that.” He let his hand slide down onto J.R.’s chest, then put his other hand there, feeling his pecs. J.R. was lean, and it didn’t show so much through his clothes, but he had great muscle tone. He worked out, that was obvious, but he didn’t wear V-necks all the time like Ian or Hoech. He should, Dylan realized, because damn, he looked fantastic.

J.R. let him explore, running his hands up and down Dylan’s forearms as he touched J.R.’s chest and belly, and then he took his cock in hand again. He had no doubt what he wanted, even though it was intimidating to think of that inside him.

“Can I . . . ?”  He didn’t know how to give a blowjob, but he’d gotten his share. So why was he awkward about asking?

Fortunately, J.R. didn’t wait to find out what he wanted. “Baby, you can do anything you want.”

So Dylan pushed him back a little so the spray wouldn’t be right on the back of his head and got on his knees.

“Wait,” J.R. said, and put his fingers under Dylan’s chin like he just wanted to see his face. Dylan looked up at him, blinking the water out of his eyes. J.R. mumbled _Jesus_ and shook his head, then stroked Dylan’s cheek and urged him forward.

Dylan gripped the base and tentatively licked the head, just to see how it felt, then let it rest on his tongue, wiggling it from side to side. It was surprisingly soft, almost silky feeling, but heavy and hard. It was _nice_.

J.R. hissed, so Dylan looked up at him. J.R.’s reaction made Dylan’s lower stomach tighten.

“You look so gorgeous, Dylan. If you could see yourself now . . . .”

Bolder, he sucked the head into his mouth and used his tongue to explore it. J.R.’s reactions were amazing, and he wondered if he was exaggerating for the benefit of an inexperienced partner, or if something about this really was that amazing for him.

Dylan sucked, his mouth making it almost all the way to his fist where he held the cock firmly. He glanced up at J.R., and each time their eyes met J.R. praised him, said things like _Daddy’s cock_ , which, yeah, he was ready to go again.

“On your knees, sucking your Daddy’s cock like such a good boy. Oh, Dylan, that’s so good.” He laughed and stroked his fingers through Dylan’s wet hair. “Daddy didn’t know you were so hungry, you should have said something.”

Dylan sucked with more sureness, though it started to feel strange in his jaw, his lips felt a little numb. He was sure he could keep going until J.R. came. He even cupped his ball sac and fondled it, just to see how it felt. J.R. seemed pleased at that. But he stroked Dylan’s cheek and said, “Come up here.”

Dylan stood, licking his lips, and was pulled tight against J.R.

“That felt so good, but I really, really want to fuck you tonight.”

Dylan nodded, stroking J.R.s back and cupping his buttocks. “Couldn’t do both?”

J.R. laughed. “Maybe. Probably. But I want to make sure. You’ll have your chance again, don’t worry.”

Dylan felt empowered now, knowing the kind of reaction he could get out of him, and pressed their mouths together. He whispered, “Because you like the way I suck my Daddy’s cock?”

J.R. pulled Dylan against him hard and kissed him like he was starving for it. Having J.R. this aroused was a thrill in itself, let alone how hard and eager Dylan was. Something about being able to drive another man crazy, that was fucking awesome.

Dylan thought they might just rub against each other until they came, the way J.R. clung to him and kept sliding their bodies together as they kissed. But J.R. led him from the shower and dried him with a fluffy towel, stroking his cock every few minutes like he couldn’t _not_ touch it, and then led him by his hand to the bedroom.

He pushed Dylan down onto the dark sheets. They were silky and warm. J.R. stayed on his knees, looking at him.

“You look so good in my bed.”

And Dylan missed the next few things he said which were mumbled while J.R. was kissing and sucking a trail down his body. Dylan arched against his mouth and sank his fingers into J.R.’s hair. And that was all before he ever got near his cock.

When he finally sucked Dylan in, he nearly came up off the bed. It was so good, unlike any blowjob he’d ever had before. After only a few sucks, Dylan shook his head. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna come,” he blurted out.

J.R. laughed and lifted his head. “Good boy.”

Dylan groaned and laughed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Roll over, baby,” Dylan did, and got the same treatment down his back--wet, open-mouthed kisses, sucking, nipping, all the way down--

He gasped at the feel of a wet, warm tongue sliding between his cheeks.

“Just relax,” J.R. whispered. “You’ll love this.”

And oh, God, _did he_ love it. It was just a tongue gliding over his asshole, but he wasn’t sure anything had ever made him _want_ quite like that.

“I love the sounds you make,” J.R. said, before pushing against Dylan’s pucker with a pointed tongue, just enough to spread him a little.

Dylan tensed again, the feeling a strange one, and the idea of a tongue there a little bit awkward. But he relaxed against the pressure of the tongue, which never went just beyond his rim. He was licked, sucked and massaged until he was grinding against the bed and pushing up against J.R.’s mouth.

“Such a good boy . . . _Jesus_ ,” he said, stroking Dylan’s back.

J.R. told him again, just relax, and then there was the unmistakable pop of a lube top. A finger pressed against him, making the same motions the tongue had, but this time when it pushed against Dylan’s hole, it didn’t stop. It slid in, caught halfway by Dylan clenching down without really meaning to.

“You’re like a vice,” J.R. said, but he sounded pleased. “Relax and let it happen . .  that’s my boy, my good boy.”

Dylan managed to relax as the finger slid deeper and withdrew, but still sometimes clenched without intending to as the finger pushed in. It didn’t hurt at all, but felt strange. J.R. stroked his back, hips and ass as he slowly finger-fucked him.

He swallowed hard as he felt more pressure and more stretch, but tried to relax and let J.R. take control.

“That all right?”

“S’good, Daddy,” he said, and pushed against the fingers for the first time as they pressed in, squeezing around them as they withdrew. The way they touched him inside made his whole lower belly and groin light up. _Oh, God, yeah._

He heard a condom wrapper, and didn’t even tense at the idea now. If it was anything like what they’d done already, he was so there.

He could have come like this, probably not even moving, but soon enough J.R. shifted and lay beside him, then pulled Dylan onto his side, his back to J.R.’s chest.

“It’ll be easier this way, the first time,” he explained, and so Dylan let himself be moved however J.R.--however his Daddy--wanted him.

“Deep breaths, baby. You’re going to take Daddy so easily, so good.”

J.R.’s cock pressed against him, and the urge to clench down to keep it out surprised Dylan. It felt _huge_ and hard. But J.R. slid the head over and over his hole until he relaxed, and with a grunt, Dylan accepted the pressure. J.R.’s cockhead was inside him.

“Mmm, so good,” J.R. moaned into his ear. “Just let me in, that’s right, push against me a little, you’re taking it so well.”

Dylan tried, pushing his bottom against the intrusion, but mostly had to let J.R. push forward while he fought not to try to stop it. He wanted it, but his body kept trying to shut it down. And after it seemed like he was about halfway in, it hurt a little. He hissed.

And instantly J.R. was stroking and soothing him, pulling back, adding more lube, just doing everything right. When Dylan nodded, he pushed forward again, and Dylan felt J.R.’s body press flush against his ass.

He clenched, and J.R. gasped, and _he had that whole huge cock inside him_. J.R. checked again if he was all right, and Dylan said yeah, and then J.R. moved and he wasn’t so sure, but it got easier, and after the first few long, slow slides of cock in and out of him, Dylan was won over to the whole damn thing.

_The whole thing._

“Daddy,” he whispered, unprompted, earning a harder thrust.

“You’re fucking amazing,” J.R. breathed. “So sexy, so tight and hot. Tell me what you need, baby. Tell your Daddy what you need. You need more?’

“Yeah.”

J.R. thrust a little harder, a little faster, taking less care. It was just what Dylan needed.

“I need you to fuck me, Daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck me. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” he whispered. And then he cried out _Daddy_ when J.R. pulled his leg back to hook over his and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he thrust. He wasn’t too rough, he was obviously still being careful of Dylan, aware this was his first time, but he was just the right amount of rough.

J.R.’s hand was magic, and his cock was rubbing just right inside him. “Daddy,” he groaned. “Yeah, Daddy, fuck me.” It was as much for him as J.R., because every time he said it, he ratcheted that much closer to coming.

“You like that, yeah, like your Daddy’s cock, the way I fuck you so deep . . . you’re my good boy, so fucking good . . . .”

And that was all Dylan could take. He shouted and spilled over J.R.s hand, and shouted again when the movement of the cock inside him brought another spike of pleasure even higher than the first. “Oh, Daddy.” It came out strangled, like he was so high he could barely manage the words.

“So good, so good,” J.R breathed, and then he shouted as his orgasm hit, and he thrust deep into Dylan, drawing even more pleasure from him. “Such a good fucking boy.”

J.R. growled and pressed deep as he came, once, twice, then slumped and merely tensed his muscles, his thighs pressed against and nearly between Dylan’s. He stroked Dylan a few more times, then rested his hand over his cock.

“Daddy’s good boy,’ he whispered in Dylan’s ear. Dylan shuddered. J.R. kissed his neck, then managed to lean up and over enough that with Dylan turning his head, they could kiss. He carefully pulled out and threw the condom away, then curled against Dylan’s back again. It stung when J.R. slid out of him.

“My ass . . . is grass,” Dylan said, feeling drunk and feeling the tell-tale throb that said he was going to remember this every time he moved, sat or, frankly, shit, for the new few days. “Gonna need to sit on a pillow for a while.”

“Part of the fun. You’ll think of my cock every time.” J.R. chuckled and kissed his neck again, settling down behind Dylan. “That was amazing, baby. You were so good.”

Another soft laugh, and he nibbled on Dylan’s ear. “Took Daddy’s cock like a champ.”

Dylan laughed at that. “Well, Daddy’s cock is fucking amazing, so I didn’t have to do much.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. Then J.R. rubbed his thumb over Dylan’s nipple in a casual way that Dylan loved, like it was his to touch and no big deal.

“Dylan, you realize . . . I’m serious about taking care of you. I don’t just mean in bed. I mean, if you ever need anything, ever have a problem or a concern, or you just need somebody for anything, I’m here.”

“I know. I really do.”

“And you know that anybody on the cast is there for you, too. We’re all there for each other. Another incident like the one who wanted  to fluff you? Let us in on stuff like that. We all have our own connections. Hell, tell Hoechlin and he’ll be on the phone for six hours just trying to put a stop to it. I can see his face now. It’d take 3 days for his eyebrows to unknit.”

Dylan laughed. It was true, and now Hoechlin’s irate face was in his mind’s eye. Hoechlin in full werewolf makeup, no less, which made it even funnier.

‘And . .. as amazing as this was, if you decide tomorrow that it’s not going to happen again or it was a mistake--which I hope you don’t, but I want to make it clear--I get it. But we’re friends, no matter what.” He squeezed Dylan tighter. “It’s your call.”

Dylan shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. My hair at that last con? Okay, that was a mistake. This? Oh my God. This was fucking  . . . I don’t even know what to call it. There’s no way I’m not coming back for more of this.”

J.R. smiled against his shoulder. “Good.”

“Daddy’s good _boy_ ,” Dylan whispered, turning his head for another kiss.

 

 


End file.
